The Mylar Song Fic Collection
by SilentBobina
Summary: I love song fics so this is a collection of Fluffy, Angsty, and just Cute, Mylar song fics for all the Mylar fans out there.


**The Mylar Song Fic Collection**

A/N: This is just the first of many, they won't all be set in the future, and they will just be random songs that make me think of Mylar.

**Ep. 1: Call Me When you're Sober **

**(Set 5 years in the future)**

Don't Cry to me,

If you loved me

You would be here with me.

You want me,

Come find me.

Make up your mind.

Sylar held the phone reluctantly up to his ear. "Hello?" Nathan's voice questioned. It was late and he just happened to be at the oval office finishing up some plans.

"Sylar," came a deep drunken sound from the other end of the phone, like a growl. "I know it's you, talk to me," the voice demanded.

Sylar knew who it was and he let his voice melt from Nathan's gruff hum to his natural voice, musical and charming. "Mohinder, I've told you before, I don't want to do this anymore."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone and Sylar knew the Indian man was crying. "Sylar, I love you," he gasped through tears. Sylar knew it was the alcohol talking, this call had become something of a ritual and he knew what was going to come next. "Please, come over, I need to see you," Mohinder's smooth accent slurred, drawing all his words into a mush.

Sylar resisted the urge to hang up, instead he said quickly, "You won't mean it tomorrow."

"Of course I will," The other man's voice rebelled, suddenly more clear and serious, "I'll always mean it."

Sylar sighed and continued, "I know you don't remember, but that's what you always say." He heard a noise on the other end and hurried to cut Mohinder off. "If you really mean it, tomorrow you'll come tell me the same thing again." He always put forth this challenge and it was always forgotten. Tomorrow would be the same.

Should I let you fall?

Lose it all,

So maybe you can remember yourself.

Sylar left his office after finally getting Mohinder off the phone. As he lay in his fancy White House bedroom he remembered the first time Mohinder had called, the first time he'd gone. It'd been a late night like this one. He had felt a rush of blood to his cheeks as the other man told him 'I love you'. He'd always felt the electricity between them and he heard the way Mohinder's blood would stir, beating manically around him although he'd always taken it as fear. He never thought it'd actually reach the breaking point, so after that first call he called his driver and had him hurry to Mohinder's apartment, which was now in Washington DC so he could work closely with Sylar on the "mutant problem". He knocked on Mohinder's door excitedly. Mohinder opened the door looking harried and dirty and somehow it simply excited Sylar more.

He gave Mohinder a grin that was returned by a smile that slowly crawled its way from one side of Mohinder's mouth to the other and this was when Sylar realized there was something wrong with the way the man was moving. Mohinder moved closer, his lips inches from Sylar's cheek and that's when Sylar smelt the schnapps, heavy and minty on his breath. Mohinder stumbled slightly and began to kiss Sylar, his large full lips encircling Sylar's clumsily. Sylar gave in, he decided it didn't matter that Mohinder was drunk, that in the morning he would feel the same and the alcohol had simply been a catalyst to lead them to a new life together.

'He will remember,' he thought confidently as he began to throw himself more deeply into the kiss, running his hands all over Mohinder's back, up his shirt, pulling it off as Mohinder reached dumbly for Sylar's. He helped Mohinder remove it and then began to kiss Mohinder everywhere, his collarbone, his chest, his neck, his stomach. Mohinder closed his eyes and let out little gasps as Sylar explored him.

The next morning however, Mohinder did not remember. He didn't even remember calling. Sylar stayed to nurse Mohinder through his hangover, hoping that his compassion would spark some memory, some recognition of what had happened between them the night before. Instead, Mohinder sheepishly thanked Sylar, apologizing profusely for what he couldn't remember.

Can't keep believing,

We're only deceiving ourselves

And I'm sick of the lie…

And you're too late

After that night he'd given Mohinder two more chances. He'd had two more nights of exploration, and two more nights were forgotten. Even a "heartless beast" like himself couldn't take the emotional abuse beyond the three strike rule. The last night they shared their intimacy Sylar even warned Mohinder. "Next time," He whispered into Mohinder's naked chest, "I won't come; you'll have to come to me."

"I love you," insisted Mohinder, unheeding of the warning. The next morning he'd been surprised to find Sylar on his couch, watching T.V. and waiting for him to awaken. "Why are you here?" Mohinder had asked flatly, obviously unsettled. It was the third time it had happened.

"You don't remember," Sylar stated, unsurprised by this point. The first two times he'd had hope, this time was simply too much. He was sick of being played as the fool. "I'm tired of this lie your living," He said as he walked out the door that day, determined to keep his promise to himself. 'Three strikes you're out,' he thought sadly.

Don't cry to me,

If you loved me

You would be here with me.

You want me,

Come find me.

Make up your mind.

After that night the calls didn't stop. He knew Mohinder didn't remember the warning but he stuck to it anyway. He remembered the first time he'd had to resist one of these calls. It had hurt him deeply.

"Sylar, come see me," Mohinder had started, drunkenly excited. Sylar could picture his face through the line, the flushed cheeks, the glinting but drunkenly filmed eyes. He wanted to see Mohinder it was true, but he held his ground.

"I can't see you anymore," He said as though they had truly been dating. That idea made him sneer at himself in the mirror. He felt like an idiot.

"Anymore?" Mohinder had asked, confused.

Sylar sighed, "I mean, I'm busy right now," He lied, "If it's really important come and see me tomorrow." He had felt empty as he said it. He had looked forward to the forgotten nights of passion as much as he'd disliked them. He hung up and went to his room. He spent the rest of the night by himself, fantasizing. He imagined the warm, dark skin and greasy curls he could be feeling under his fingers. He imagined the whimpers and gasps that Mohinder made when he touched him carefully and skillfully. He imagined the taste of the man, like coffee and schnapps as their tongues intertwined.

The next morning, he actually had hope that Mohinder would come to him. He

didn't.

Couldn't take the blame,

Sick with shame.

Must be exhausting to lose your own game.

"Sylar," Mohinder said as he walked into the oval office the morning after the most recent call. Sylar looked up, startled. His heart leapt excitedly and he thought it was finally time, no more pretending.

"Yes?" Sylar asked, the joy threatening to leak out of the edges of his voice. He smiled a demented but satisfied smile as he waited to hear all of the things Mohinder told him drunkenly while the man was sober.

"Last night," Mohinder began, faltering slightly. "On my cell phone, it says I talked to you last night," he looked embarrassedly at the floor, "Do you- do you have any idea what I said?" He asked, ignorantly.

Sylar sighed in disappointment. He'd thought today would be the day. "You told me you love me," Sylar decided the honest route might get him his way for once, put him in the position of power. He wanted the power.

Mohinder laughed and it hurt Sylar. Was it so hard for him to believe his own feelings? "I think you must be mistaken," Mohinder said quietly, unable to look Sylar in the eye.

"I'm not," Sylar said solidly, "And it's not the first time you've done it," He revealed, a slight smile playing over his lips.

Selfishly hated, no wonder you're jaded-

You can't play the victim this time

And you're too late.

Mohinder considered this for a moment before saying, "But I couldn't love you."

"Why not?" Sylar asked playfully, he was trying to protect himself by putting on his power hungry façade when really he just wanted to beg Mohinder to remember. He grimaced inwardly at the weakness and hurt he felt for the other man's words.

"You killed my father," He said in his cruelly vengeful voice, "You're a monster," he insisted, "A PARASITE!"

Sylar blinked rapidly unable to control the tears that formed at the word. Mohinder had called him that long ago and the repetition of the feeling cut him deeply. Anger was his only defense. "You've begged for me," Sylar explained maliciously, "I've had to turn you down many times, the first three however, I didn't." He let the revelation sink in slowly. The hurt was gone now in favor of a hungry glint in his eyes. 'You want a monster, I'll show you a monster,' He thought. As acknowledgement shone in Mohinder's eyes, Sylar flicked his wrist to send Mohinder flying into the wall of the office. "For once, you're the monster," he whispered into Mohinder's ear. He called for security to take him away.

Don't cry to me,

If you loved me

You would be here with me.

You want me,

Come find me.

Make up your mind.

Later that night, Sylar thought back on the day. He was proud of himself for finally standing up for his feelings. The phone in his room rang and startled him. Part of him wondered if it could be Mohinder but most of him thought he'd blown it. He let the answering machine pick up only to be greeted with the sweet, smooth accent of a sober Mohinder on the other line. "I'm sorry," the voice said, "I overreacted and I know everything that's happened," He said. When Sylar heard this he grabbed the phone quickly and angrily, cutting off the answering machine.

"You KNEW?" He asked incredulously. "All this time you were pretending?"

"Yes," Mohinder said quietly. The shame was clear in his voice but this time Sylar knew he could show no emotional mercy without seeming weak. "I do love you."

It was the first time Sylar had heard the words from him sober but he couldn't give in, "You don't love me," He hissed through the phone. "If you loved me you would've come to me one of those nights, you wouldn't have lied about remembering…" He trailed off and said, suddenly official, "I think you should look for employment elsewhere Dr. Suresh." With that Sylar hung up the phone and let his hurt take over again.

You never call me when you're sober.

You only want it cause it's over.

How could I have burned paradise?

How could I-

You were never mine!

Sylar felt awful as he went to sleep. The next day he stayed in bed, conducting all presidential matters by phone or via e-mail from his laptop. As he worked he tried to convince himself he was right for once. He imagined the heated nights when both of the men had held each other tightly and closely, when they had touched every part of each other and shared their sweat and dirt. He remembered how it felt to wake up next to Mohinder, to stare at his peaceful face, with his innocent smile plastered on and his curls falling to frame his face like an angel, his angel, his savior. When he remembered this he felt that sending away Mohinder had killed the one thing in his life that made him feel good, his paradise. Then he remembered the flip side.

He remembered that he'd been deceived for almost a year and that he'd been used. Over the course of the day Mohinder left an array of hurried and pleading messages for Sylar but he couldn't give in. He had the power now, and he intended for it to stay that way.

So don't cry to me,

If you loved me

You would be here with me.

Don't lie to me,

Just get your things.

I've made up your mind.

The next day Mohinder showed up at Sylar's office. He decided to let him in to say goodbye. Mohinder stood uncomfortably in the office as Sylar studied him carefully from behind his desk. "Why did you lie?" Sylar finally asked. This was the one question he wanted answered before he pushed Mohinder out of his life.

"I dunno," Mohinder answered honestly, "I guess it seemed wrong to love you," he let his voice drop in shame.

"I love you," Sylar said calmly, trying not to lose his resolve, "Now please leave."


End file.
